


Reward Sequence

by momentinsubtext



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentinsubtext/pseuds/momentinsubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[post-tEoT] The Master does not die. He does not turn to ash. He does not get sucked into the Time Lock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reward

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my Teaspoon account.

_re·ward_  
n.  
A satisfying return or result; profit.

 

The Doctor steps out of the Tardis in the wasteland, looks around. He closes his eyes, partly to help hold his regeneration at bay and partly to focus his telepathic senses. When he opens them again, he's already at the Master's side, frantically searching for a pulse.

The Master tips his head to look up at him. "This again?" he asks, so quietly he almost can't be heard.

"No!" the Doctor nearly yelps, yanking the Master to his feet and pushing him back against the nearest surface to keep him that way. "No, no, no. You are not doing this to me again, I won't let you. I won't _let_ you."

The Master looks at him for a second, then smirks. "Then _help_ me."

"Don't be an arse," he says, then the Master flickers again and he can _feel_ it, like static electricity running over his skin. He fails to repress a shudder and one of the Master's eyebrows goes up. A blush creeps up the Doctor's neck.

"Well, well-"

The Doctor doesn't let him finish, pushes him back against the wall and crushes their mouths together hard enough to bruise, teeth and tongues and the Master doesn't hesitate to respond for even a second. It's harsh, and painful, and so exactly what he needs that for a minute he forgets he has an actual plan.

"Stop it," he says, tearing his mouth away. "I'm trying to save your life."

"Interesting plan, this."

"Oh, you know me. Never go for the boring route." He catches the Master's hands before they reach his temples, pins them to the wall. "I said stop it."

The Master tilts his head. "That's the second time you've refused me."

The Doctor looks startled. "I'm not-" he falters, and his grip loosens fractionally. "That's not what I'm doing."

"No?" he asks, taking the opportunity to switch their positions, and shoves his thigh between the Doctor's legs. The Doctor makes a positively delicious noise in the back of his throat, his eyes closing briefly, and the Master can't resist the urge to kiss him again, open-mouthed and greedy.

"Stop," the Doctor protests helplessly. "I can't-" He loses the tight control he's been keeping over his regeneration. The energy rushes over him, through him, and he holds onto the Master as he tries to pull away. Regeneration energy flows between them uncertainly before settling over the Master.

It pulls his unstable molecules together and snaps them into place; it hurts. He jumps away the second the Doctor releases him, patting himself down frantically. "Same body." He stares at the Doctor. "Both of us, same bodies. You manipulative bastard." He can't quite help the tinge of admiration in his voice.

The Doctor smirks. "You're impressed."

He opens his mouth to protest, then shrugs. "Might be. What happens now?"

"Come with me."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Please," the Doctor says quietly, looking away.

"What, that's it? Just 'please'? No ridiculous grand speeches about showing me the universe?"

"Please," the Doctor repeats.

He stops back into the Doctor's space and kisses him again, carefully and more gently than he'd prefer.

" _Never_ ," he says, and watches the Doctor shatter before the word is even past his lips.

In seconds, the Doctor has recovered and composed himself. "You don't really think I'm going to leave you here, do you?"

"You're going to truss me up and drag me back to your Tardis now? So much for having a choice."

"You had a choice. You chose wrong." He shrugs. "It happens to the best of us."

"I won't come quietly."

"Please," the Doctor says softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the Master's. "I can't do this again. Master..."

_Master..._

The word echoes in his mind and he can feel the Doctor there, not trying to get into his head, just hovering. Waiting. "Is that an invitation?" he mocks. Then he reaches out, presses his fingertips into the Doctor's temples until he's sure bruises are starting to form and he can almost ignore the Doctor's pulses under his finger, echoing now absent drums. The Doctor whimpers but doesn't resist.

The second their minds touch the Doctor's body sighs into his. He can feel it from both sides, feel the Doctor's mind trying to do the same, to conform to him, and this is nothing. Barely even telepathy. The sort a child could do in his sleep.

It's almost unbearably intimate.

He pushes further, closer, and the Doctor nearly sobs, fingers clutching convulsively at his shoulders. The Doctor's mind opens up for him under the slightest pressure, as if all those pesky protective barriers of his had been dissolved. He was never so willing on the Valiant, even on his worst/best days. He always held back, just a little, but now... it would be so easy to take possession of him, to push into his mind until nothing is left but a few scattered fragments.

He realises his mistake a second too late. The Doctor's mind closes around his before he has a chance to pull out. _What is this?,_  he growls inside their collective head, his muscle control seemingly shut down.

The Doctor smirks. "I believe it's commonly referred to as 'a trap'." He catches the Master clumsily as his body goes limp. "God, you're heavy."

The next thing the Master knows, the world is tilting sharply and spinning away from him. _What-?_

"Sorry," the Doctor says. He shifts the Master's now unconscious body, lifts him up bridal style and makes his way toward the Tardis. "Easier this way. Don't worry, I have a plan."


	2. Rewarding

_re·ward_  
n.  
Something given or received in recompense for worthy behavior or in retribution for evil acts.  
  
  


He's nearly finished with his preparations when the Master makes his way into the console room. "Have a nice nap?" he asks without looking up from what he's doing. The Master doesn't answer. "Right, fine, be that way. Hold on, I won't be a tic. There." He turns around and stares at the Master. "Where were we?"

"You know exactly where we were."

"Mm, you were refusing to come with me. How'd that go for you?"

"I won't let you keep me," the Master snarls and launches himself across the room, tackling the Doctor to the ground.

"I know," the Doctor says.

The Master grabs his shoulders and shakes him, hard. "No, you don't know," he hisses. "If you try to keep me, I will _break_ you. Again, and again, and I will _never_ stop."

"I _know_ ," the Doctor says again. "Do you think I haven't taken precautions?"

"Locked the controls again, have you?"

"Something like that," he says mildly. "Do you think we could get off the floor? I'll show you."

The Master glares at him for a second, then gets to his feet.

"Thank you," the Doctor says, wincing as he stands up. "That's gonna leave a mark."

"Good."

"Thought you might like that. Here," he motions to a screen on the console. "You'll like this too. I've locked out the Earth."

"Alright, _and?_ "

"There is no 'and'. That's it, that's all." He rocks back on his heels. "What do you think?"

"I think you've gone mad."

"I can't change you, can't fix you." He fidgets restlessly. "I can't keep you. But... you could keep me. And the whole universe, minus the Earth."

"As if it were yours to give."

"It is. I can do this."

"Are you sure?" the Master mocks. "Really? You can just give me the universe? Just like that?"

The Doctor swallows, aware of the Master's eyes on him. "I don't know," he says finally. "It's not...  _easy_ for me, this. But right now, if you want it, it's yours. And so am I."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Master," he says with smile that's almost a smirk, meets the Master's eyes.

The Master closes his eyes to clear his head. "Kneel," he says in a slightly strangled voice. When he opens his eyes again, the Doctor is on his knees. He let's out a shaky breath. "You're serious."

"One time only offer," the Doctor says. "Take it or leave it."

Rage flashes through his mind, quick and bright. He grabs a fistful of the Doctor's hair and yanks his head back. "And what stops me from leaving you on some godforsaken rock for the rest of eternity? Hmm? Have you thought of _that?_ "

"Loneliness," the Doctor says, as if he isn't being held. "You've never been alone. Not really. Always had that noise in your head. It's gone now, isn't it? Outlived it's usefulness."

"So?" the Master snarls, yanking the Doctor's hair harder.

"So you don't feel it yet, but you will. The _silence_. Constant silence where there should be the noise of a million minds. And if you think you're mad now-"

"Shut up."

"Go ahead and leave me. In a year, or two, or ten, you'll be as desperate as I am. You'll come back."

"I said _shut up!_ " He forces his way into the Doctor's mind; it doesn't open up for him this time but he doesn't let that stop him. He pushes all the way through, stripping him of all his defenses, doesn't stop until the Doctor is reduced to whimpers. "Now tell me how unbearable the silence is," he says, lets the words fill the Doctor's mind entirely. "Tell me how desperate you are."

The Doctor leans into his hand, pressing his temples into the Master's fingers.

The Master grabs hold of stray though and _twists_ it, drags it through the Doctor's mind and let's it go; the Doctor keens. "Tell me you prefer _this. Well? Tell me!_ "

"Yes!"

He releases the Doctor and stalks across the room.

Left alone in his own head again, the Doctor sags against the central console. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"You don't have forever to choose, you know."

"Don't I? We're Time Lords, you idiot, forever is our birthright."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Are you sure? Did you ask? Oh, wait, you couldn't have-"

"That should be proof enough," the Doctor says tightly.

"And if say no? What then? What happens if I refuse to play your game?"

"It's not a game."

" _Doctor_."

"Cryogenic suspension," the Doctor says finally.

The Master stares at him. "You're going to _freeze_ me?"

"If I have to," the Doctor says. "If you really won't accept a surrender. I told you, I won't lose you again. I can't."

"A _surrender?_ Is that what this is?"

"What else would it be?"

He considers. "It's not unconditional."

The Doctor snorts. "Of course not. I've not gone completely off the deep end."

"Could've fooled me." He moves again, back into the Doctor's space. The Doctor leans toward him, seemingly unaware he's doing it. The Master's fingers twitch idly, but he doesn't reach out.

The Doctor's eyes close. "Please."

"You're like a broken record. Don't you have any better arguments?"

"Yeah, but you like it when I beg."

"And you indulge my whims now, do you?"

"If you stay."

"There's those pesky conditions again."

"I'm not asking much," the Doctor says.

His fingers twitch and this time he gives in and presses them to the Doctor's temples. Those barriers are up again, repaired but not perfectly. He doesn't break through, just prods at them gently. "Let me in," he whispers, and feels the Doctor almost, _almost_ obey.

"Stay."

Rather than answer he drags the Doctor up by his tie, tightens the notch until his respiratory bypass kicks in, then slips his other hand into the Doctor's trousers. Within seconds he has the man moaning, rocking, coming over his hand like he's the wrong side of a century old, gasping his name like a prayer. He wipes his hand on the Doctor's coat and smirks, loosens the Doctor's tie again.

"I wonder what would happen," he says, deliberately stroking the now horribly sensitive skin at the back of the Doctor's neck, just above the first bump of his spine, "if your human pets could see you know, so... beautifully undone all because I, the Master, _touched_ you, just a little."

He breaches the first of the Doctor's barriers, slips his mind into it just a little bit, and touches something inside. The Doctor comes again, goes nearly boneless against the Master's chest. The Master chuckles.

"Imagine the looks on their _faces_." He does it again and the Doctor nearly screams. "Wonder what they'd _say?_ Wonder what they'd _do?_ "

"There's a reason Earth is off-limits," he mumbles when the shaking stops.

"And what if that's what I want? To see their faces when they realize how ell and truly broken you are? What if that's _my_ condition?"

"You don't get any conditions," he protests. The Master's hand, the slightly sticky one, slides up under his shirt to touch smooth skin, still flushed from three consecutive orgasms. His other hand is still touching the Doctor's neck with those maddeningly soft touches and it's not _enough_. He shudders. "But maybe when I'm that well and truly broken, I'll change my mind. What are you doing?"

"Something very clever. Now hush," he whispers. "Let me think."

He can feel the Master's thoughts, can feel the Master thinking but he can't concentrate, because all the while the Master's hand are only just barely touching him; it's all he can do to remain still and quiet.

A minute passes, then five, then ten, and the Master hasn't stopped.

"Please," he says haltingly, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Master - please-"

Up goes the Master's eyebrow. "Please what?"

"I-I don't know."

"Of course you do."

"It's not enough." He shakes his head, shame blossoming in his mind. "It's not- I need-"

He touches the tattered barriers still erected in the Doctor's mind, gently. "These aren't here to keep me out."

"No," the Doctor says hesitantly, and oh, he's kept this hidden. Even from himself, for a while. "They aren't."

 _They're for me to_ break, he thinks, and feels the Doctor agree. "When did you develop this _fascinating_ masochistic streak?"

"You _know_ when."

He does. The Master doesn't need to break him, all the work's already been done. The Doctor is only held together by chewing gum and sheer force of will. It's _almost_ too easy to be fun. He grins.

"Oh, go on then. Ask me."

" _Master_ ," he breathes. "Hurt me. Please."

He leans forward and brushes his lips over _that_ spot, just below the Doctor's ear. "I think I already am."

The Doctor shivers in his arms and he puts just the tiniest bit of pressure on those mental barriers, feels the cracks start to form. He's struck with the sudden irrational urge to punch the man. It's not an uncommon urge, but he doesn't give in to it. That's what the Doctor wants, and the Master is not in the habit of giving the Doctor what he wants.

"The room I woke up in," he says instead. "Is it mine?"

"It's _all_ yours."

"If I stay."

"If you stay," the Doctor confirms, trying to pull away, to get out from under the Master's hands. He squirms when the Master refuses to let him go. "This isn't fair."

"It never is. And now I _know_ ," he purrs into the Doctor's ear. "I know what you _want_. I know what you _need_. Isn't that a terrifying thought?"

"Always has been."

"And you want me to stay anyway." He releases the Doctor abruptly and steps away; the Doctor very nearly collapses. "Just one more question."

The Doctor nods weakly, leaning heavily against the console.

"How long is this... pitiful complacency going to last?"

"I expect that rather depends on how well you let me rebuild my defenses. Bored already?"

The Master doesn't respond. He paces around the console, pressing buttons just to see if they respond to him. They do.

"Very well," he says after a moment. "I accept your terms."


	3. Rewarded

_re·ward_  
n.  
Psychology _The return for performance of a desired behavior; positive reinforcement._  
  
  


Martha answers on the first ring, which any other day the Master would comment on. Not today. Today he's too desperate to care. "Doctor?"

"Not exactly."

Even through the phone he can hear her _stop_. "What have you done to him?"

"Relax, Miss Jones, I'm not calling to gloat. I haven't hurt him."

"So let me talk to him."

"I can't."

"Then I don't believe you."

"I haven't even topped, for fuck's sake!"

"There are so many things I didn't want to know in that sentence."

"Tough. Now listen to me, I swear to you that I haven't done anything to hurt him. It's not my fault!"

"Okay," she says after a moment, and he wonders briefly what he's just given away. "Tell me more."

"There's nothing to tell. I didn't do anything to him. I was _kind_." Martha snorts. "I was. And he... shut down. He couldn't cope. I didn't-" His voice breaks on the last word and he curses it's betrayal.

"Didn't...?"

"He did it to himself," he maintains.

"Did _what?_ " Martha snaps. "You really need to start giving me some real information. Now."

"He's stuck. Mentally. Somewhere in the War, I think."

"The War in which he destroyed your entire planet?"

"Yep. I forgave him for that. It's what he would have done. But he has a masochistic streak a mile wide and more deep seeded psychological issues than I can count. It-"

"-is basic psychology. I get it."

"So you can see how this is a problem. I need to get him out."

"What do you need from me?"

"If I'm going to do this without accidentally killing us both, I'd... prefer to have someone watching our vitals. As a precaution." He sighs. "The idiot locked Earth out of the navigation system, so you'll have to find the Freak and come to us. I'll walk you through how to fix his primitive teleport."

"Say please."

" _Martha_ , I'm asking for your help."

"No you're not."

"We don't have time for-" Click. He sat in silence for nearly three hours before he hit the redial button. "Please," he says tightly.

"Jack isn't on Earth anymore," Martha admits. "We don't know where he is."

"Miss Jones, I admire your moxy. On to plan b, then. If you don't hear from me again in twenty four hours, we're probably both dead. Bye now!" He throws the phone across the room and then punches the wall as hard as he can. "This is not what I agreed to."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor mumbles. "Sorry, sorry."

His lip curls. "I know you are. You keep saying." He walks around the bed slowly, drinking in the sight of a completely vulnerable Doctor for the last time. He's naked and beautiful and once the Master is finished, he'll be unbreakable. "You aren't allowed to say _I told you so_."

"Seven billion, sixteen million, thirty-two thousand, nine hundred and eighty three," he blurts, clutching at the sheets. "Burning and screaming and every one of them knows I did it, you know. They all _know_." It's the most he's said in months and the Master doesn't quite know how to respond. The Doctor turns his head and meets the Master's eyes. "You might like it."

He touches the Doctor's hair lightly and brushes his fingers over his temples. "Show me."

Something immense and hollow howls through their collective mind and the Master shivers. Then he's firmly deposited into the Doctor's memories.

 _-every spare bit of space inside his head is burning. All the souls on the planet below, searing their screams into his brain like telepathic tattoos. His hand falls away from the button already twisting into a new form; his skin burns as if it, too, is on fire. The screaming peaks and levels off, and now he can feel again. Underneath all that pain and rage and fear, is blame. They know what he's just done, they know he has The Moment and that he's used it. They're burning because of_ him _, and they know it, and it_ hurts-

The Master gasps as he comes back to himself and violently severs the contact. He'd forgotten that the Doctor wouldn't be able to filter himself out of his memories, not in this state. "You were wrong," he snarls, stripping and straddling the Doctor's waist. He hits the Doctor as hard as he can and doesn't stop until the other man's torso is covered in bruises. The Doctor whimpers softly when he stops. "I hate you, you know."

The Doctor sucks a breath in through his teeth and manages a smile. "You're a liar."

"I'm a damn good one." He slides a knife out of his sleeve and twirls it through his fingers. "I'm going to kill you."

"I know."

The Master makes a cut across the Doctor's bruised skin and he flinches away. "Hold still." He makes a second cut exactly opposite the first, leaving a bright red X on the Doctor's chest. They're shallow cuts, just deep enough to draw blood. He dabs his fingers in it and brings them to his lips, notes the exact way the Doctor's attention refocuses. "You taste like Gallifrey."

"Don't," the Doctor says. "Please, don't."

"Okay," he says, rocking his hips against the Doctor's. The Doctor arches under him and he smirks. He drives the knife into his chest, right in the middle of the X, and slashes his throat for good measure, even as his eyes glaze over. He stabs the knife into the headboard and leaves it there. "Damn you," he grunts, jerking himself off over the Doctor's chest perfunctorily. He jabs his thumbs into the wound when he's finished, deliberately mixing his come with the Doctor's blood.

The Doctor's hand jerks up with so little warning that he doesn't manage to avoid his fingers. There is no jolt when he makes contact, no burst of painful static or any of the other things the Master is expecting. Instead, he just slips inside the Master's head as if he's been doing it forever. Which, in fairness, is as close to true as they're likely to get.

He should protest, or move away, or a dozen other things that are _not_ relaxing into the Doctor's hold. But it isn't just one sided contact anymore; he isn't just in the Doctor's head, the Doctor is in his, and he almost doesn't notice the Doctor bursting into flame. Regeneration energy sparks against his skin and the Master shudders, watches the Doctor's body restitch itself.

Next thing he knows, he's on his back with the Doctor staring down at him. New hands skim over his skin and the Master has to actually double-check that the man hasn't acquired an extra pair. He purrs.

"Thank you," the Doctor says.

He nods curtly. "I think we need new rules."

"It doesn't need to be a game, you know."

The Master doesn't meet his eyes. "Get off me," he says after a moment, pushing the Doctor off and rolling off the bed. "I have a call to make."

"I didn't mean-" the Doctor starts. "Please don't leave."

"Don't be stupid," he says, knocking on the side of the Doctor's head and trying to hide his relief that this new Doctor is still a little bit damaged around the edges. "You regenerated with me in your head. You'll never get rid of me."

The Doctor settles back into the sheets and watches him warily. He rolls his eyes and picks the phone up from where he'd thrown it.

"You've reached the mobile phone of Martha Jones. If you're hearing this message, I'm probably being chased by something large and terrifying. Leave a message and I'll get back to you if it doesn't catch me." _Beep!_

The Master contemplates leaving a scathing and completely inappropriate reply. "We're fine," he says finally and hangs up the phone, raises his eyebrows at the Doctor. The man just grins at him. "You're more trouble than you're worth."

"Then why did you bother?"

He leans down and kisses the Doctor breathless.

"Right," the Doctor says. "Good reason."


End file.
